


We are Beautiful, We Are Doomed

by luvphilia



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dream Smp, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Savior Complex, dream - Freeform, dream is high key losing it and it's kinda sad but he deserves it, have you ever wanted to punch someone then give them a hug afterwards?, los campesinos lyrics pog, no beta we die like schlatt in the drug van, prison pog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28916283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvphilia/pseuds/luvphilia
Summary: Dream has committed countless crimes against countless people. He's irredeemable, and George knows this, but he can’t help but want to go visit him. He misses him dearly but needs answers above all else.So he gathers his courage, throws reason to the pigs, and goes to visit Dream in the prison. He knows this is stupid, but trying is all he can do.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	We are Beautiful, We Are Doomed

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is mildly inspired by "we are beautiful, we are doomed" by los campesinos! but it's not a songfic or anything, just a bop of song lol
> 
> dedicated to the book club  
> y'all are weirdos but I love you anyway  
> enjoy your mild angst ♡♡

_Are you sure you're ready?_

_George, there's something you need to know before you go in..._

_Dream, he... I don't think you know him as well as you thought you did._

_You were gone for most of what happened so I know you don't want to believe it, but George, you have to know..._

George stood in front of the looming wall of lava, Sam's small warning speech still reverberating through his skull. It had only been a few weeks since Dream had been locked up in this horrid place, so he couldn't have changed _that_ much, right? At least, he thought it had been that long. It was hard keeping track of the days anymore.

He took a glance back at Sam, his only comfort here, but he just looked past him and to the slowly creeping lava. It sent a pang of guilt and fear rattling through him. He had dragged Sam all the way through the labyrinth of traps and "security measures" all for a short visit with some he thought he knew. His best friend. Dream was George's best friend. It was one of the few constants he held true.

And he was disobeying countless orders just to be here. So many people had cautioned him against visiting Dream. Warned him that going and just _seeing_ what he had become may break him. When George pictured Dream in his head, he saw the person he adored so dearly. That tall lanky man with that pristinely kept green jacket, that dumb mask, and body that was covered in scars from countless battles and skirmishes. He could never picture a villain, not even if he tried.

But he knew it was true. George knew he was just misleading himself, protecting his heart and feelings from being ripped to shreds. But a seed had taken root inside his affections and it had already begun to bloom into doubts. He knew why he was trying to protect his emotions, why he was blocking out any shred of doubt, but knowing made it hurt so much more.

So, they kept standing there in a weird sort of thick silence until the lava finally drained and Sam coughed to get George's attention. The cavernous room before them was empty besides a sea of lava below and a room suspended in the center with the front wall missing. _Dream was in there_. George could see him sitting on the floor by a chest in the corner with a book splayed out on his lap. He could feel his heart crawl into his throat. _There he was. There was Dream._

George whipped his head around to look at Sam with almost pleading eyes, but Sam barely flinched. "Just... When the platform you're on starts moving, move with it," he said. "I really don't want you to fall in."

George gulped down a dry breath and nodded. _This would all be worth it_ , he told himself.

The platform moved, then carried him across unscathed. Sam really was "cracked at the craft" as everyone said. This mammoth building of blackstone and obsidian was impenetrable, and George knew that Dream would never be able to leave. No matter what. Even the transportation — which looked scuffed as hell — was quite sophisticated.

As Dream inched closer, a short half-wall shot up from the floor, cutting off Dream's exit. He barely seemed to notice.

And just like that, George is stood not ten feet from Dream, and he suddenly found himself at a loss. He didn't plan ahead, even though he should have. He should've thought of at least a rough plan of what he wanted to say, but here he was, silent. 

The warmth of the lava burned his back, but he found the warmth oddly comforting. The wall had fallen, and now, they were alone. Dream still hadn't looked up.

"U-uh," George stammers. "Hello."

Dream still stayed staring at his book. Upon closer inspection, the pages were all blank. It was unsettling.

The tall man had always taken pride in his appearance to some degree, always needing to look as perfect as he felt — whether that be in clothes or armor — but sitting there, in that obsidian cell, he looked like a wreck. His jacket was dirty, soiled by weeks of dust. His jeans that never had a rip or hole were suddenly torn at the knees, and Dream was fidgeting with a loose string that sprung from it. His hood was down, his hair disheveled, and his mask was thrown to the floor across the room, un-damaged.

"Dream?" he asked, like talking to a ghost.

"I know you're not real," Dream spoke suddenly

"What?"

Dream lifted his head and looked right through George. "You're not real, are you?" He nodded to himself, then looked back down at his book, which was still empty. "I'm seeing things again. I've seen fake George's before. You're just like them, just more... I don't know, solid-looking?” He paused. “I'm just talking to myself, aren't I? Ah, well, 's okay. Beats silence."

George didn't know why that hurt so much. He'd been in solitary confinement for weeks now so of course he'd have a few screws loose. He was more upset than surprised. Because, well, _Dream had been hallucinating him._ He wasn't sure whether to take it as a compliment or be scared. Maybe a bit of both.

So, George had to make sure Dream knew he was real the only way he knew how.

"Clay," he spoke softly. Dream's head perked up. George never called him by his real name unless it was serious. "Remember that time you and I were doing some offline grinding and I was running out of food, so you took it upon yourself to make a mini cow farm in the middle of the woods so you could 'efficiently' cook the steak without making a furnace? You were so extra! Well, you _are_ extra, you always have been. But like, you were being extra... extra. Wait that's... not two, oh whatever."

Dream, the most overwhelmingly powerful force in their world, the closest thing to a god they've ever known, was _crying._ It was apparent he didn't realize it himself, however, as he didn't try to cover his eyes or wipe away the tears flowing down his reddened cheeks. George doesn't remember the last time he ever saw Dream cry, if there even was a last time. It was shocking to him that something as simple as recalling an old memory was enough to open the floodgates.

Dream opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a sigh and a sad laugh. He pulled his knees to his chest, which caused the book to fall down onto the floor. He buried his face and let out another muffled sigh, followed by an almost too quiet to hear "I'm sorry."

George was never very good at comforting crying people. Not really. All he could ever bring himself to do was be a shoulder for them to lay their heads on and sob until nothing was left. He was better at being support than anything, really. But this time, he really didn't want to just let Dream cry. Even though a small part of him was swelling with satisfaction that Dream trusted him enough to cry in front of him, he couldn't take it. It was morbid.

George did the one thing he could think of: take a seat on the cold floor beside his best friend and just... sit. George couldn't think of anything to say. His brain was a mess of static and nagging, no coherent thought for miles. 

He placed his hand on Dream's head and slowly ran his fingers through his hair. He could hear Dream's breath hitch for a moment but continued on for a few minutes before he drew his head back up.

And finally, Dream spoke. George missed his voice. "I thought you'd abandoned me. I know I pushed you away, but please believe me, even if it's the only thing I say that you'll ever believe, _you were the last person I ever wanted to lose, George._ " George felt his throat close, like he was about to join his friend in crying. "I.. I never... nev... never want to do that again. I had to remove all of my attachments to be powerful, but I... I could never really get rid of... get rid of you, could I?" His eyes were still puffy but his breathing had evened out and the tears had dried. 

George could tell something was terribly wrong. Dream may have been an emotional person, but he always kept everything boxed away and stored behind lock and key. Letting it out, being vulnerable like this, could only mean one thing: _the prison was getting to him more than anyone expected._ It terrified George to his core. 

Dream was stubborn, too. He despised being wrong and was one of the most stubborn and determined people he'd ever known. Having this... this place, ruin him so terribly was unfathomable, and yet, here is he, broken.

"I missed you, too," George spoke. "I... I'll be back. I'll keep coming. I won't leave you here alone. I don't care."

Dream froze. His breath stopped for only a few seconds as if he was so scared he just forgot to breathe. "No. Don't. Please."

"Why not?" 

"Because I don't want to ruin you, too." Dream hissed. "I'm not going to ruin your life too. I refuse.”

"Dream, I came here because I wanted to see you. I knew the risks and I came here anyway because I can't just stay away." George knew he was talking too much but it was too late to stop. So, he kept going. "I only just got here. You're _not_ kicking me out so soon."

Dream's face tensed up and he relaxed his posture, unwinding from his curled-up state. George noted his fists tightening. "George, I need you to listen to me."

George nodded.

"I never wanted you to come in the first place. It hurts too much. You... I... I've destroyed so many people. I broke them down and built them up and all because I was _bored._ I hurt Tommy because I was bored. That's it. I wanted power and I was feeling bored so why not have some fun, right? I don't care about their feelings. I never have. But you make me vulnerable. You melt me. You tear me open and spill my guts across the floor and I hate it." He spoke the last part with a quivering voice. He was scared. _Dream was scared._ "I hate how weak you make me. George, you are the only thing I could never bring myself to hurt. And that isn't good. That's not okay. I'm not supposed to have feelings. I can't have attachments. _I can't._ I need to have a heart of stone to get what I want."

"And what do you want?" George blurted. Because no matter what Dream said about weakness being a bad thing, Dream made him weak too.

"You. I want you."

"... What?"

"I want _you_ , George, but I can't have you." They were yelling now. They started unsure and silent but morphed and evolved into near screaming torment. "I need power. I need to be in charge of everyone, and you hold me back. You're my Achilles heel. You took my stupid avocado pit of a heart and you smashed it to bits."

George had to calm down. Dream was yelling and it was terrifying but he couldn't cry. He couldn't let Dream be victorious again and prove his own point. But Dream kept going and George didn't have the heart to interject. He started off so loving and distraught but that man was gone. All that was left was this angry spiteful man.

"I want you, but I _need_ power. Needs come before wants. Always. You're my guilty pleasure, my cheat day. I want you, but I can't have you."

George screamed before he had the chance to hold himself back. "But I love you, you absolute idiot! You can't fucking do this. I won't let you do it. Not to me."

And Dream, for once, was mute. George kept going. "You won't hurt me. If you say I'm your weakness, then you won't hurt me, right? So why do you insist on being so fucking stubborn? Do you even know what I had to go through to come visit you? I died, Dream. I threw myself into lava for you. Just to see you. And you repay me by being a pigheaded asshole. I'm more disappointed than hurt. So stop being a prick and just let me love you, no strings attached. You're in prison, Dream, you don't have power here."

"No."

"The hell do you mean 'no'?"

"George, you wanna know something? When I was working with Wilbur, bringing him gunpowder as he built his bombs, he would sing to himself." Dream started. His voice was even and almost reminiscent. "You know he... he latched onto music as a small comfort while building these horrible contraptions. And I'd listen. They were beautiful and they filled the empty air so who was I to complain?"

"Dream why are you bringing a dead man into this?" George challenged. 

"Just listen to me." Dream cut him off. "There was one song he'd sing over and over more than any other. It was oddly fitting, I think." Dream reached his hand over and cupped George's face in his palm. His hands always fascinated George. They were calloused and ripped through by scars from countless battles yet he had always found them so disturbingly entrancing. "George," he repeated, dragging his thumb across his cheek. "We are beautiful, but we are _doomed._ We were doomed from the start. And I can't hold on knowing I won't be able to keep you."

"Dream, please..." George croaked. "There's no other way I'd rather go than by your hands." He grabbed Dream's hand and dragged it down to his chest, leaving it settled above his heart. "Hurt me, but please don't let me go. Please." 

Dream looked almost unsure, but his expression didn't linger. Instead, he stood up. His eyes went cold and his mouth straightened into a pursed thin line. "Sam! George is ready!"

As the lava behind them began to drain, George knew it was over. Dream had won. He had barely had the chance to talk to him about anything he wanted and now he never would. It was over. He didn’t bother fighting it. Dream never lost, after all.

He could barely even comprehend what had happened, especially since their conversation (if you could even call it a conversation) had started and ended so quickly. It didn’t leave much time for everything to sink in. Leaving would feel good, in a depressing yet relieving way.

"I'm sorry, George."

"I don't think you are. Goodbye, Clay."

George didn't turn around to see his face again. He'd already seen enough.

_"I know you don't want to believe it, but George, you have to know... Dream is a monster. It's because I care about you that I don't want you to let him in."_

George stepped back onto the main platform where Sam was stood waiting for him. 

"How did it go?" Sam asked expectantly, hands clasped. 

George just looked at the floor. "I uh... I think I'm glad I came."

**Author's Note:**

> subscribe to technoblade


End file.
